


Ruin My Life

by SongsAboutBuckyy



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky Barnes After Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Captain America: The Winter Soldier Spoilers, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Civil War (Marvel), Random & Short, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, Writing Exercise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:35:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26233525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SongsAboutBuckyy/pseuds/SongsAboutBuckyy
Summary: When your relationship with Bucky leaks to the tabloids, the headlines run wild with accusations that the golden girl of the Avenger’s has ruined her life by falling for the former assassin. Inspired by Ruin My Life by Zara Larsson.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Kudos: 59





	Ruin My Life

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Ruin My Life](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/677581) by Zara Larsson. 



Your breath catches as you study what Steve has handed you. Examining the magazine in silence for a long moment, your hands begin to shake and your vision blurs as your eyes quickly fill with tears. **  
**

##  _**Avenger’s Golden Girl Y/F/N Is Ruining Her Life**_ _ **With**_ _ **Her Horrible Taste In Men!**_

The headline is smeared across the front page of the tabloids in bright red letters. Beneath it is a picture of you beaming up at Bucky as the two of you exit a convenience store together, your arm tucked cozily through his. He is nearly unrecognizable beside you, his hat pulled down low and aviator sunglasses shielding his eyes. His long, dark locks are pulled back in a tight bun at the base of his neck and a few loose strands brush against the dark stubble covering his cheeks. In his opposite gloved hand he holds the two plastic bags filled with the snacks you had insisted on needing for your movie marathon.

Swallowing thickly, you realize there is a red arrow edited over the picture to point out the small strip of silver gleaming between the top of Bucky’s glove and the cuff of his leather jacket.

Your gaze moves to the second picture, taken just moments after the first. In it your arms are thrown around Bucky’s neck, a giddy smile covering your face as you pull his face down to yours. Stubbornly opposed to public displays of affection, he had given in to your playful antics and pressed a quick kiss to your lips before dragging you back along to walking with him. The fleeting kiss had apparently not been too quick for the hidden photographer you’d both failed to notice. The brief intimacy had been perfectly captured in the third and final picture of the series.

“Oh my God.” You murmur, shock still rolling over you in waves. But it is the fuzzy black and white snippet in the upper right hand corner of the cover that makes you gasp sickly, nausea suddenly washing over you. It is the infamous video still of the Winter Soldier staring down the security camera that had captured the murder of Howard and Maria Stark on December 16, 1991. You struggle to breathe, the air suddenly snatched from your lungs.

You have to get to Bucky before he sees this. You’d worked so hard to make him see that he deserved to be loved, fighting his every insecurity and stubborn objection along the way.

“Has he seen this?” You ask Steve, lifting your gaze to him.

Steve shrugs his wide shoulders, concern etched on his handsome face. “I don’t know, I saw it while I was out for my run this morning, I was just on my way there -”

You turn quickly on your heel and head towards Bucky’s room. Running across the compound, you dodge the staff making their way through the halls and skid to a stop in front of his door, knocking frantically against it.

“Buck!” You call, rapping your knuckles against the wood as your pulse beats wildly in your throat.

Relief washes over you when he opens the door, but you quickly see his blank expression, his blue-green eyes glazed over distantly and you know at once that he’s seen it. Your mouth gapes open, dread settling in your bones and prickling up on your skin as you struggle to find the words. He doesn’t meet your gaze, as stares down at the floor in front of you.

“I told you this would happen.” His voice is hardly more than a whisper, but his tone is firm as he folds his arms his broad chest and leans a shoulder on the door frame. He gnaws his bottom lip between teeth.

“Bucky, this is horseshit and you know it.” You shake the paper in frustration, your eyes again welling with tears. “You don’t ruin my life by being in it, you make everything _right_ by being in it. You make it all _so, so right_.” Your voice pleads for him to understand but it’s as though the words don’t reach him.

He shakes his head. “They’re not wrong, you know. Being with me, it will ruin you. You’re the golden girl, the media loves you.”

“That’s not true.” You argue, tears escaping the corners of your eyes and billowing down your cheeks. You reach for his hand, but he flinches away and your heart shatters in your chest, the splintered remains settling deep in the pit of your stomach. “Bucky, _please_ -”

He’s still shaking his head, pushing off the door frame agitatedly. “I was stupid to think this wouldn’t affect you, your image, your opportunities.” His expression stiffens, he looks pained and withdrawn when he finally meets your gaze. You reach for him again, panic beginning to fester under your skin, clawing its way up the back of your throat.

“Bucky please, it doesn’t matter what they say-” 

“Of course it matters,” He scoffs, retching his hand away from your grasp, his face pinched in anger. He’s disgusted with himself. How could he have let this happen? Everything he touched was tainted by his gruesome legacy. “It’s all that matters. If people know you’re with me, everything I’ve done suddenly reflects back on you. I can’t do that - I can’t do that to you.” His gaze bears sharply into yours. “I won’t ruin your life, Y/N. I won’t.”

“You think you ruin my life.” You echo, your voice a weak whisper as your bottom lip twitches and trembles. After a long moment he nods once, his lips pursed as he struggles to hold his resolve together.

“Then ruin it.” You whisper, feeling thoroughly broken as your heart wails in your chest for him. If he ruined your life by being in it then you wanted it so, completely, thoroughly _ruined_. 

“I want you to. I want you to ruin my life, if that’s what you think you do to me. _Ruin me_.” Your voice pleads with him to understand. Your eyes bear into his, desperate to make him see what he means to you. 

______

You storm into the office of Marilyn Miller, the head of Stark Industries Public Relations department, slapping the magazine down onto her desk. The woman looks up from her work in surprise, taken aback by your uncharacteristically brash entrance before glancing back down at the magazine in front of her. Reading the cover’s headline, she winces.

“Oh, dear.” She breathes, reaching for her laptop. “How would you like to handle this, Miss Y/L/N?”

“I want to issue a statement to the press.” You hiss, leaning over her desk.

______

After a miserable night of trying to sleep alone, you wake early the next day to catch Steve as he’s heading out for his morning jog and ask him to find you a copy of today’s edition of the tabloids. After yesterday’s scandal, he looks thoroughly confused, but agrees to return with one.

When he does, you thank him quietly and promptly disappear back into your room to be alone with your thoughts. Sipping your morning coffee as you sit at the breakfast bar, you repeatedly trace your fingers over the statement you’d issued to the press yesterday, silently pouring over the words, praying they will be enough. The ache in your chest is unrelenting, fear choking tightly in the back of your throat. What if it's not enough? What if he can't be reasoned with, and leaves your life as suddenly as he'd entered it? The possibility is too painful to dwell on and you rest your head in your hands. You'd grown to love him so much in these past few months, he had to understand that no audacious headline could change that. 

A soft knock on your door makes your heart stutter in your chest. Rising to your feet, you tighten your robe around your waist and make your way to the door. You take a deep breath before opening it, bracing yourself.

Your heart surges, stammering uncontrollably in your chest. Bucky stands before you, his head hanging bashfully as he smiles softly, apologetically at you. He anxiously tucks a stray strand of hair behind his ear and your throat feels tight just looking at him, this desperately beautiful, bruised man. He licks his lips, drinking you in with his heady gaze. You take each other in for a long moment.

You notice then that he’s holding something behind his back, swinging your gaze to it questioningly, you raise an eyebrow at him.

He reveals a magazine folded open to your official statement and holds it out to you.

“You’ve got… Quite a way with words, doll.”


End file.
